Staring at the Sun
by tsu2nami
Summary: The death of her mother leaves Scully severely depressed, and an attempt by Mulder to cheer her up leads them to a deadly hostage situation.
1. Ultraviolet

Title: Staring at the Sun  
Author: Tsu2nami (tsu2nami@hotmail.com)   
Keywords: MSR, Angst, Character Death (though it's neither of our favorite agents)  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. Mulder and Scully and almost everyone else in this story belong to Chris Carter and 1013 productions. U2 belong to   
Interscope and Island Records, Joydrop belong to somebody though I'm not entirely sure who and I'm not about to do the research. I'll do my best to give credit to  
any other band's lyrics used along the way. I do own Anita Rogers, however. Oh, and the La Belle Nuit is a fictional restaurant, and I'm not positive if I even   
phrased the name right.... That's where two years of French will get you.  
Author's Note: This fic isn't finished and probably won't be for some time, since I plan on making it fairly long. Writing is by no means my strong point, this is just the  
result of me apparently reading all the MSR/Angst fics out there and needing something to occupy myself, so feedback would be tremendously welcome, I reply to   
all.   
Summary: The death of her mother leaves Scully severely depressed, and an attempt by Mulder to cheer her up leads them into a hostage situation.  
===+===  
You know I need you to be strong,  
When the day is as dark as the night is long.  
Feel like trash, you make me feel clean,  
I'm in the black, can't see or be seen,  
Baby, baby, baby light my way.  
-Ultraviolet (Light My Way)  
U2  
  
December 24  
Arlington, Virginia  
  
She was nothing if she wasn't afraid. This feeling lived inside her, residing in her very being. Once in awhile she felt herself rid of the onslaught of paranoia, no  
longer feeling Their presence, no longer haunted by images and shadows posing a threat to her and her alone. This abandonment never stayed for long, however,   
and only soon after its arrival she found herself clinging to any last shred of sanity she could dig out of her weary mind.  
A passing car, a kid on his bicycle, a stray cat . . . they were all after her. Everything she saw was part of the ultimate plan, the ultimate plan to destroy her,   
to cause her downfall.   
Had it always been like this? No, she remembered. No, it wasn't always like this. Cautiously leaning back on the wall of the K-Mart, she observed the   
crowds of people flocking past her, not noticing the peculiar looking woman examining them. They act as though they don't even see me, she shook her head.   
Such good actors, they are. So fucking good. Let's see how long that can last.   
With that, Anita Rogers quickly got up and entered the building, her one hand in the jacket of her bulky trench coat, clutching the handle of a pistol.   
  
===+===  
  
December 2, 2002  
Washington, D.C.  
  
The office was a bitter mess, the result of years of not-caring on his part. Indeed, it had served him well and would continue to in the future. Despite the   
clutter and trash, Fox Mulder found his office a much welcomed respite from the outside world. The outside world, of course, didn't include his partner. She was   
part of his world, and it was never wise to mix his world with the "real" world. Insults and steely glares were seemingly lost on him, because Fox Mulder only   
bothered with those things located in his own world.  
His partner was, in a sense, the same way. She never seemed to notice, or at least, never let on that she knew about the way her colleagues would talk about  
her when her back was turned. Strong-willed and skeptical, Dana Scully was the perfect match for her partner.  
Mulder sighed and stretched back in his chair. He was going to ask her tonight. He was sick of lying to himself, sick of having to tell himself that she was his   
friend and his partner, but nothing more. He wanted desperately to tell her how he felt, and despite how he was insecure about everything else in his life, he felt   
almost certain that she had similar feelings for him. Even if she had never considered it before, he hoped that, after tonight, she would. That is, if she accepted his   
invitation, anyway.  
Deciding to check his e-mail, Mulder turned on the new computer before him. The FBI had recently decided to upgrade some of its more ancient equipment,  
and Mulder's computer had been one of the first things to be replaced. He couldn't say he was sorry. It would save him countless minutes of waiting for his   
computer to achieve the simple task of closing a pop up ad. He glanced over at the wireless adapter set on top of a stack of papers. The power light glowed a steady  
green, but the wireless light flashed incessantly, as if trying to give him false glimpses of hope while never actually giving him what he wanted. He swore to himself,   
turning off the computer. Such is life, he thought, glaring at the adapter.  
"Computer troubles, Mulder?"   
Mulder looked up, seeing his partner standing there. She wasn't wearing heels like she usually was, making her a good couple inches shorter than he was   
used to. She wore her fiery, red hair down, and one of her black suits.   
"Nothing a hammer couldn't fix," he grinned. Standing up, he walked over to her. "Listen, Scully, I've been meaning to ask you something."  
She looked up at him, concerns evident in her eyes. "Is there something wrong?"  
"No, not exactly. See . . . " he silently cursed himself for temporarily losing his nerve, and forced himself to press onward. "I was thinking, and . . . " his voice  
trailed off. She was looking at his quizzically now, and he knew he had to somehow say what he wanted to ask her soon. He sighed. "Will you have dinner with me   
tonight?"  
To his delight, she gave him a small smile. "I'd love to."   
  
===+===  
  
7:30 P.M.  
Arlington, Virginia  
La Belle Nuit  
  
Scully sat self-consciously across from Mulder, playing absent-mindedly with the delicate gold cross she always wore. She couldn't believe how incredible   
he looked. He wore a sleek black suit and had managed to tame his otherwise messy hair. Trying not to appear as though she was staring at him, she turned her head  
toward the band that was preparing to play, just enough so that she was able to see him out of the corner of her eye. She had been pleasantly surprised when he had  
asked her to dinner that morning. She'd felt for what seemed like forever that there was something between them that, if it were explored, would blossom into   
something amazing. His invitation made her realize that perhaps she wasn't the only one who wanted to explore a deeper relationship. She knew beyond a doubt that  
she loved him. She'd felt love once before, and she'd thought that she couldn't possibly feel an emotion more insane than that, but this . . . this was impossibly   
deeper.  
Mulder gazed across the table at his partner. She looked nothing like the Scully he knew. If possible, he thought she looked better. She wore a long black   
skirt with slits on the side going up to the knee, and a long-sleeved red shirt with an elongated neckline that set her protruding collar bones and shoulders on display,   
yet didn't go down low enough to look tacky. Worried she would notice him examining her, he looked over at the band. He had taken her to the most expensive   
restaurant he knew of, not knowing that they had hired a band to play for some married couple's fifth wedding anniversary. He hoped and prayed that they would be  
good.  
The female singer walked to the front of the stage, smiling and spouting off a short speech congratulating the happy couple. She then took a step back, and   
the band started playing what seemed to be a rather slow song.  
Mulder looked over at Scully, their eyes meeting. "Care to dance?" he held out his hand.  
"Thought you'd never ask," she smiled and placed her hand in his.   
As they made their way to the dance floor, the woman began to sing.  
  
"So distinct, and beautiful, I remember every single word said to me.  
I realize the meaning of love is a place away and above the limitations of my being.  
I'll wait for you, come to me again, there is   
No one for me after you.  
No one who took the time to understand my stone-cold point of view,  
The self-destruct shadow and how pain turns to truth."  
  
Scully let her head rest on Mulder's chest. She inhaled his scent, letting her thoughts wander in every conceivable direction. This felt so right, his arms   
engulfing her small form, building a shield of comfort around her. Though she was sorely tempted to lift her head to his, allowing herself to indulge in one of her   
favorite fantasies, she was able to muster enough self-control to keep her thoughts from becoming a possible reality. After all, why push it? Wasn't just being held by  
the man that she'd loved for so long enough? The answer was clear to her. No. It wasn't enough, and it never would be. She couldn't deny that she enjoyed being so  
close to him, though, so she forced herself to simply savor the moment... as though that would be difficult.   
  
"Wait for it, wait for the drop,  
Feel the size, the weight, and the distance from eye to cheek.  
I know too well that I depend on sensory, memory, cravings for time,  
Timeless stood in our white heat.  
I'll wait for you, come to me again, there's  
No one for me after you.  
No one who took the time to understand my stone-cold, broken view,  
The self-destruct shadow and how pain turns,  
How pain turns, how pain turns,  
How pain turns to truth."  
  
The music came to a stop, and the agents slowly let each other go, walking back to their table where their orders were awaiting them, as well as what   
appeared to be their waiter heading towards the table.  
He motioned for Scully. "Miss? You have a telephone call. Follow me, please." With that, the man walked off, expecting her to follow.  
Mulder flashed her a confused look, following her when she walked quickly to where the waiter was now standing. The man handed her a phone receiver,   
stepping aside so as not to eavesdrop on her conversation.  
Mulder, however, felt no such obligation, and stood directly behind her, straining to hear the voice on the other line.  
Scully simply listened to the voice on the other end, a look of disbelief appearing on her face. Without saying goodbye, she hung up the telephone and   
glanced down at the floor before taking a steep breath and looking up at Mulder while biting back tears.  
"Scully? What happened? Who was that?"  
Her voice was shaky, and she couldn't bring herself to look him directly in the eye. "I have to go," she said, and, with that, started to turn and walk away.   
Mulder put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.  
"Wait, what happened, Scully?" He kept his hand on her shoulder, keeping her from leaving.   
"Mulder..." she inhaled, closing her eyes. "That was Bill. My mom... there was an accident...."  
"Where is she? I'll take you there," he brought his hand up to her cheek, wiping away the single tear that had managed to fall. 


	2. Kite

A/N: Had to throw in this quick update because I forgot to throw something in the last chapter. This story is alternate universe, and assumes that seasons 8, 9, and   
parts of season 7 never happened. I couldn't live with myself until I finally typed enough to post, just so I could clear that up. Oh, and though I realize that this story   
isn't at all interesting yet, and seems to be going nowhere, stick with me, I beg of you. I promise it'll get exciting somewhere down the line. :) Yeah, and my   
apologies for the horrid spacing job in the last chapter, hopefully this one will be different. Much like writing, apparently posting things isn't my strong point, either.  
Damn. Sadly, the spacing won't be any better in this chapter, thanks to my lack of knowledge and my computers lack of Microsoft Word. Sorry.  
  
---  
Who's to say where the wind will take you,  
Who's to know what it is will break you,  
I don't know which way the wind will blow.  
Who's to know when the time has come around,  
Don't wanna see you cry,  
I know that this is not goodbye.  
-U2  
---  
  
St. Bethany Funeral Home  
Arlington, Virginia  
2:35 P.M.  
  
Scully set her head in her hands. The past two days had been absolutely surreal. She had been dancing with Mulder as her mother lay bleeding to death on   
the side of the road, sandwiched between a steering wheel and an unrelenting chair. She should have been there, she should have stopped the other driver from   
swerving, from drinking at all that night. Wasn't it her job to protect? How could she protect the public when she couldn't even save her own family, her own mother,   
from the fate that had befallen her. And now, she was attending her own mother's funeral, all because she hadn't been there to save her.   
Not that you could have, Dana, she thought, wearily. How many other lives have been lost because of your inability to preform your job? Your mother,   
Emily....  
"Scully?" A hand was placed gingerly on her shoulder, breaking her out of her cold reverie.Mulder sat down next to her, putting his arm around her, drawing   
her close to him. There was nothing he could say to comfort her, and, knowing this, he restrained himself from speaking further, hoping against hope that she would   
feel the need to confide in him, let him carry the burden of her grief for her, or atleast with her. If nothing else, he atleast wanted her to know that she wasn't alone.   
She didn't speak. Instead, she placed her hand on his and looked up at him. She had managed to hold back the well building up in her eyes thus far, and had   
no intention of breaking down right there, in front of him of all people. If she cried, she knew he would be overcome with a primal need to comfort her, to protect   
her, forcing her to try desperately to regain his respect, which was something she held in the highest regard, almost as high as his trust. What are you talking about,   
Dana? she silently reprimanded herself. You've never been strong, and you never will be. You are weak and you are useless. If you were actually of any value, you   
could have been able to save her.  
Mulder sighed. "If you want to talk, Dana, I'm here. And if you need a shoulder to cry on, I do have one."  
She nodded, cursing herself. See? See what you've made him do? He feels like he has to comfort you. And why is that? Because you are weak. "Thank you,  
Mulder."  
The two sat in silence for the duration of the funeral, she, managing to temporarily fight off her self-loathing thoughts, and he holding her all the while. 


End file.
